


Paranoid

by Ferika



Series: Breaking New Territory [Wincest] [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Drug Use, Gen, Ghosts, Haunted Cave, M/M, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Paranoia, Whodunnit, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferika/pseuds/Ferika
Summary: The Winchesters hear word of two linked murder cases: both bodies found knifed and spread-eagled inside a wicca ring in a cave, used as part of a ghost tour. Police were stumped and stopped investigating, attributing the murders to a ghost. It's down to Sam and Dean to solve the case once and for all.





	1. Troops

“Nearly done,” Hannah said to her friend Neven. They were standing at the entrance to Agatha Cave: Seaside Secrets and Ghost Tours, watching the next batch of tourists build up, like debris in a river. The 11-pm tour was her last tour of the evening, and Hannah was looking forward to heading home, having a late dinner and then falling into a coma-like sleep. Her roommate had texted her to say she left some pasta salad for her in the fridge, so that was a plus.

She inspected the troops – the word ‘tourists’ was overrated – and hoped they were as tired and eager to go home as she was. Probably not, but she lived in hope. There were four of them now. The two blissfully holding hands were obviously a couple. There was also a nervous-looking twenty-something bloke and a stumpy, past-his-prime kind of guy.

Hannah’s watch showed five-to-eleven. “Are you ready, Neven?”

“Are you?” he replied, rubbing his hands together to fend off the cold.

Hannah and Neven approached the troops.

“Hey there!” everyone turned to look at her. She loved the way she could turn heads with a loud, clear voice and a sugar-sweet tone. “You all here for the ghost tour? Well, my name’s Hannah, and I’m going to be your tour guide for the evening. Have you all met your tourmates? I’d definitely recommend it – you never know if you’re going to need them!”

“Are you the tour guide?” one asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“But you look fourteen.” Hannah knew she was scowling. She also knew she had a very slender, willowy body which made people think she was much younger. At times, it definitely came in handy. She could get away with buying children’s tickets when she took the bus. And it always made people underestimate her. But right now, she didn’t want to be seen as some kid. She was the all-powerful, all-knowing tour guide.

“I promise you, I’m twenty-two. I can drink! But today isn’t about me, it’s about us all. You are…?” Hannah held out her palm towards the couple, to get them to introduce themselves.

The woman hesitated. Hannah was surprised to note a woman of Asian heritage in the Cave. The common belief around Asia – it was a sweeping generalisation, of course – was don’t mess with the occult, and it won’t mess with you.

“Go on,” Hannah prompted her. There was something shifty about the stranger. Hannah was under the impression that she was taking in every little detail of every little occurrence.

“My name is Li Jing, and this is my husband-”

“-Claude,” the husband finished. His voice wasn’t what she was expecting, given his blondish moustache and cleft-chin. He sounded deep and sinister. And British. He touched his wide-brimmed brown-felt hat, which looked as if he’d just walked out of the 1950s.

“No kids?”

“Not yet.” Li Jing smiled at her husband knowingly.

“And where have you come from today?” Hannah.

“The accent’s from China, but we live in England,” Li Jing said. “We’re on holiday. A friend told us about Agatha Cave, so we thought we’d see it for ourselves.”

“What about you, Sunglasses?” Hannah gestured to the fifty-something gentleman, who had a pair of sunglasses up on his salt-and-pepper hair. He looked like the most honest, most respectable of the bunch.

“Patrick. Out on a day trip from one state over. Here for the history.”

“And how about you, Gap-Year?”

He looked shocked, wondering how Hannah knew he was on a gap-year. Neven cracked a smile, having seen Hannah’s ability before. She was good at being a detective. The big rucksack and wide-eyes made for easy clues. Not to mention the unruly black curls which suggested that if he had a girlfriend, they were miles apart. Of course he was on a year off to explore the world, no doubt about it.

“Hi everyone, my name’s Rudy. How did you know I was on a gap year?”

“Tricks of the trade. But it’s lovely to meet you all. Now if you’d like to follow me-” Hannah turned around to head off, but she bumped into someone. He was tall, and she had to look up to see his face. Grey jacket, brown hair swept neatly off his face, confident gaze. She took a step back.

“Sorry we’re late,” he said. His voice sounded very genuine and apologetic. “He couldn’t read the map properly.” The man pointed to someone else by his side, a bit shorter, with wiry black hair and a crooked smile that looked ex-military.

“That’s alright. Part of the tour?”

“Yeah. My name’s Sam, and this is Dean.”

“You’re cops?” Hannah asked. They looked like every muscle in their body was primed and ready to go. No one would work out that much unless they needed it. Plus, they had an air of authority. If there were a crisis, they would be the ones she’d turn to.

“No,” said Sam, turning to Dean. “We’re brothers.”

No way were they brothers – there was nothing the same between them. Their hair, eyes, jaws, sizes, noses, hands, everything – everything was different. They were probably in-the-closet lovers, but that was none of Hannah’s business. Like she said, she was a good detective.

“And what brought you here today?”

“Ghosts,” Sam replied.

“Well, we’ve got loads of those around – just you wait. We don’t call this the Ghost Tour for nothing! Now I do need to ask, does anyone have any medical conditions I need to know of before we go into the Agatha Cave? Anyone have asthma? A heart condition? Anyone on any medication? Pregnant? Near death? Already dead?” The group all shook their heads. Dean even had the audacity to smile. “Well, goodie. Let’s go.”


	2. The Wicca Ring

“Before we head in, I want to point out that everything you see and hear and feel in the Cave is authentic. We don’t play any sounds or have any projectors or anything. Believe what you want, but we don’t need them. It’s already haunted enough in there,” Hannah said. She had stopped the troops by the Bronze Gate – a huge 19th century construction with bars running across it like an old-fashioned jail cell, and two sliding doors. It was originally put in place to stop passers-by from getting into the Cave, back when it was used to store rum and other goodies.  “Now prepare yourselves, it’s dark in there.”

She pulled her torch out of her pocket and flicked it on. She opened the Gate, and led the troops into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell.

No matter how many times Hannah had entered the Cave, she was always surprised by the warmth. You’d think being enclosed in cold rock would be cool if not icy, but apparently not. It was a cosy sort of warmth, like being wrapped in a woolly blanket. Except slightly wetter. The Cave always made Hannah feel safe and contained, without being claustrophobic. She loved it. Neven, who was a _Lord of the Rings_ hardnut, always joked that she would make a great Dwarf – being underground just made Hannah feel in place.

“Watch your step,” Hannah shined her torch onto the two concrete steps leading down from the Gate, to stop people from tripping. “A while back, someone fell and split their head on this step. We had to get an ambulance stretcher down here. Not much fun.”

One guy grunted in disbelief. It was the definitely-a-cop (and a sexy cop at that) Dean. He may or may not have been right, but lies were the foundation of a good ghost tour.

“Gather round, I don’t bite,” Hannah announced once everyone had come down the precarious steps. “So we’ve made it – the Cave.”

“What’s the noise?” asked the deep-voiced Englishman. Claude, was it?

Hannah listened for a moment. The usual: the dripping of water from the stalactites and the strange sounds like wood creaking. Being in the Cave was like being in the stomach of the earth, and the stomach groaned with hunger.

“It’s unexplained. We had Harvard University in here years ago. They thought it would be because the walls of this section are reinforced with old ash-tree panels, so it would expand and contract. But after they did their research, they said that it definitely wasn’t the case.”

“What was it, in the end?” Claude’s wife asked. Li Jing.

“Ghosts? Sometimes you hear knocking down here, or whistling. People hear singing, sometimes. Heck, I’ve heard singing – it was some sort of opera.”

As if on cue, there was a noise from the ceiling that sounded exactly like a knock. Neven looked very nervous, even though he’d been here a few times before. Hannah explained to the group that this was the ghost called Mary. She wasn’t malicious, but rather enjoyed the company and was greeting them. One or two of the group looked rather paranoid at that thought.

“So there are three rooms in the Cave. The Rum Room, there,” she shined the torch down the corridor. “Then there’s the Ring Room here in the middle, and over there is the Red Room.”

“And the Ring Room is where those two were murdered recently?” It was Dean who had spoken.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Hannah replied. She looked at him. Working in the Cave had given her amazing vision. She could see so much down here in the dark cave lit with one torch. More than the others could. Dean wasn’t happy. “Would you like to start there?”

“Yes,” the other definitely-a-cop added. Sam.

“Then in you go,” Hannah said. They filed in obediently. “Just don’t go into the ring in the middle!”

There were two dripping candles lit in an alcove in the back-wall, illuminating it. The Ring Room was a few metres wide and deep, mildly colder than the corridor. It was called the Ring Room specifically because of the circle of rocks in the centre of the room, about two metres across the diameter. It was a perfect circle, made with jagged rocks ranging from the size of a fist to a small cat, by the careful hands of wicca witches two centuries ago as an object of peace and harmony. But peace and harmony was far from how people saw the ring this century.

“Why, what happens if you go into the middle?” asked Gap-Year.

“I’ll give you a clue – the last people didn’t walk out of it again.” Hannah’s torch flickered. Crap batteries.

“Haven’t you read the papers?” asked Sam.

“No. Why?”

The question hung in the cool air and they watched one of the two candles catch in an invisible wind. It almost went out.

Hannah decided to carry on with her explanation of the origins of this wicca ring. Over the years, there were stacks of stories of people who had gone into the ring and died suddenly and violently. And now, stubborn people always wanted to jump in the ring as proof that it wasn’t haunted. They didn’t last long. In the time Hannah had started working, just over a year, there had been two deaths, on two separate occasions. Both of them had been idiots who ventured into the ring, despite strict advice not to. Human nature, hey? If you tell people not to look behind you, you’re going to look behind them.

 “What killed them?”

“Something evil,” Neven said, and just as he said it, they heard the Bronze Gate slam shut.


	3. You

The sound of the gates shutting reverberated through the Cave. The group rushed back out into the corridor, back to the Bronze Gate. Hannah kept her torch trained on it. It didn’t look out of the ordinary, but when Hannah touched the Gate, it made the hairs on her neck stand up. It was like a forcefield, gluing the doors shut. They just wouldn’t budge in the slightest. They were sealed in the Cave.

Hannah could see her breath in front of her. The corridor had turned icy within the space of a few seconds. Her torch had finally died too, and she wondered whether her phone would work as a substitute.

There was a sound like distant screaming coming from the left, and the group turned as one to look at it. It was an empty space. Hannah had goose-bumps.

“What is that?”

“It sounded like screaming.”

Hannah could just about make out Dean pulling something from his pocket which was vibrating furiously.

“Is that an EMF meter?” Hannah asked.

Dean looked at her. Or tried to, but he couldn’t see her. Hannah knew she had the advantage of vision, having spent so much time in the Cave. “Yeah.”

“What’s it showing?”

“Five bars,” Dean said, holding it close to his face to see it properly. “We’ve got ghosts.”

A disheartening chuckling filled the room. It was a woman’s, and no one from the tour group. Hannah’s heart was racing. For all the creepy things she’d seen and heard down here, nothing had been as strong as that. It made her stomach feel syrupy.

Someone in the group pointed, and the others turned. There was something translucent tearing down the end of the corridor – the shape of a human. The ghost laughed, ran through everyone and continued. Hannah felt numb when it passed through her. It ground to a halt at the other end of the corridor. The figure wasn’t touching the floor, just hovering slightly above.

Hannah couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Who are you?” Claude. A bit braver than Hannah was feeling.

“It matters not who I am. What matters is you,” the ghost answered. Her voice was chilling. “All of you.”

She was beautiful, eerie but beautiful. The ghost looked strong and dishevelled, as if some great injustice had been done to her. Exactly like how Hannah imagined Fantine from _Les Miserables_. If Fantine wore a too-tight t-shirt and jeans, that is.

“You will not walk out of the dark until your secrets come to light.”

“What secrets?” Li Jing said nervously.

The ghost laughed again. “Indeed. What secrets? Everyone has a secret, and what is yours?”

The faint candle light from the three rooms turned off completely. The group were plunged into total darkness. Hannah could see that the ghost, once emitting light, evaporating into mist. But her creepy presence was still felt.

There was a strange background noise before the ghost spoke, like a music note. “You, Li Jing, from so far away, across the snow and air and mountains. You chased your dreams and left ice in your wake. But your husband, he left fire. And by husband, I of course mean you, Claude.”

The note stopped. Then, Hannah felt a faint hand on her cheek. She grabbed at the air, but it wasn’t a person. It was the phantom.

“Hannah,” said the ghost. “There is madness in your breast.”

“Leave. Leave us alone!” Hannah shouted. She was sick of this phantom, toying with her troops. This was supposed to be an upbeat tour. There were sometimes ghosts and shadows, yes, but no ghosts had set her a riddle in the dark. The hand left her cheek. Had she gone?

The ghost chuckled. “Rudy, the explorer, who has discovered the price of his adventures.”

Hannah turned to where Gap-Year was. She could hear him breathing heavily, and he looked nervous, hands planted firmly on the straps of his backpack. The ghost had struck a nerve.

“Patrick. You have had hands on untouched worlds.”

“Are you calling me an alien?” Patrick asked, panicked. His breath was catching in his throat.

“If I were to give you a name, it would be much worse.”

Patrick didn’t reply.

“And finally, I come to you, Sam and Dean. You call yourselves Men of Letters, but your actions write novels.”

“Not all secrets are bad,” Sam. At least, Hannah thought it was Sam’s voice. It sounded wise and contemplative, and Dean struck her as neither of those things.

“Perhaps not,” replied the ghost. “But there is an unspoken shadow in your mind, Sam.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean. Definitely.

“It means talk, and you will be free.”

There was a small ‘whoosh’ sound, as the candles gained traction. Hannah’s torch flickered in her fist, and then became a steady beam of light. The dim light returned to the Cave, and the troops all turned a circle. Their spook had vanished.


	4. Ignoring the Fun Police

“Haha, projectors and a paid actor. Very funny.”

“Some kind of joke?”

“How did it know those things?”

“Whose ghost was that?”

The voices blurred together. Hannah couldn’t take it anymore. “That wasn’t part of the tour!”

Everyone stopped squabbling.

“We’re stuck here because whatever that _thing_ is, it’s keeping the Bronze Gate locked like a prison, and I don’t know how long until the other tour guides will find us and let us out – tomorrow morning, if we’re lucky. If they _can_ open it. We’re stuck here overnight, at least,” Hannah said. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think the tour is over.”

“Will we get our money back?” Gap-Year.

“Well, you paid to see ghosts, and I think we saw a ghost. So no,” Hannah replied. She strode back to the Ring Room before anyone else could pose her a question. They stood around in confusion a moment longer.

Hannah sat down, staring at the ring. She was a good few centimetres away, not wanting to risk going inside. But she looked at it. There was nothing haunted about looking at that cursed wicca ring. How could a few rocks meant for harmony cause so many deaths? Is that what the wiccas intended?

It was cold in this room, as always. She put her hand in her pocket, and felt the twisted end of a joint.

“Oh no, you’re not thinking about lighting up?” Neven said, coming in the Ring Room. He sat next to her, also not daring to touch the ring. Hannah could feel his body warmth next to her, a comforting, persistent presence.

“Why not? I’ve got the joint. What’s the point of having it if I’m not going to use it?”

“You’re the tour guide. You’re supposed to be in charge and maintain order. You can’t do that if you’re high off your tits on 420.” Neven always was the wet blanket. The party pooper. The fun police.

Hannah never really liked the name 420. It sounded so clinical, and besides, there wasn’t a specific time of day to smoke. It was whenever the urge took her, be it the first sensation on her lips in the early morning or the late night chillaxer in the middle of a dimly-lit underground cave, surrounded by spectres and strangers. The little crooked paper in her hand wasn’t 420, it was her best friend Mary Jane. Sorry, Neven.

“Those cops – Sam and Dean – can keep the order.”

“I don’t think they’re cops. They’re too… I don’t know… But not cops.”

Hannah stood, walked over to a candle. She lit the joint under the fragile flame. The herbal smell filled her nostrils as she took the first heavy drag.

“Want a puff?”

“No. You know that stuff makes me nauseous. And it makes _you_ paranoid.”

“I’m always paranoid,” Hannah laughed. It was true, it was a part of her. Her father was worried about her. Hannah’s father had always been worried about her – grades in school that were low down on the alphabet to her choice in boyfriends. She remembered that boyfriend with a nose ring. What was his name, Scotty? Like Beam-Me-Up Scotty.

“I thought I smelled some good ol’ weed,” came a new voice. Hannah looked up sluggishly. It was the man with the sunglasses, Patrick. He must have smelled it from the other room, the Red Room. No wonder that’s where the troops went. It was the warmest of the three rooms in the Cave. She didn’t know if they’d discovered the writing on the wall in the Red Room yet.

“Want a drag, old man?”

Patrick sat next to her, and Hannah passed the joint. He didn’t even hesitate before inhaling.

“Last time I did this was in my wild college years. I told myself I never would again,” Patrick gave it back to her. “But that was before we got locked down here.”

“In Ghostville,” Hannah added.

Patrick didn’t say anything. They listened to the creaking and knocking for a moment of the creepy Cave. It was hypnotic, like the sound of waves on the seashore outside by the beach. Hannah used to love that beach. She loved watching dogs running back and forth on it, and digging holes the size of themselves. She’d always wanted a dog. Something big and warm and woolly.

“Do we really all have secrets?” Patrick said. His voice sounded slower and deeper than earlier. He’d pulled the sunglasses over his eyes now, as if it weren’t dark enough down here by the light of two candles and the comforting glow of the joint.

“I don’t know, doesn’t everybody?”

“What’s your secret?”

There’s madness in your breast. That’s what the ghost lady had told her. She smiled with bliss. Hannah had never been happy with her breasts – too small, just like the rest of her – but she’d never thought of them as crazy. Some boys liked them that way, she supposed. Like Scotty. Gosh, he loved pizza, Scotty. Hawaii pizza was his favourite, but Hannah preferred stuff with as many toppings as possible, except pineapple. Pineapple was weird.

“What’s _your_ secret?” Hannah asked Patrick.

He spaced out.

Hannah repeated the question. “Can I guess?” she asked when he didn’t reply. “You have a mistress?”

“No. I don’t… Do you?”

“No. You… killed someone?”

“No. You?”

“You… fuck animals?”

Patrick laughed a stoner’s laugh, taking another puff. “No! You’ll never guess!” They were down to their last drags. The joint was hot on her fingers, now. Hannah stubbed it out on the stone floor. He whispered his dirty little secret in her ear, with another laugh.


	5. Group Therapy

Once the fog cleared from Hannah’s mind she went to the Red Room. Most of the troops were sitting in a circle, laughing and sharing stories like they weren’t trapped in a haunted cave. It felt like how Hannah imagined a maternity group. Soon they’d be sharing blurry photos of ultrasounds and comparing baby-bumps. Perhaps their fear had worn off, or they’d used up all their adrenaline with the ghost.

The group cleared a space for her next to Neven without a word and she joined the circle. They’d brought the candles to the middle of their group to provide them with light. Their glow felt like mood-lighting rather than gothic-wannabe.

Hannah noted that the whole group was there, except for Patrick who was still in the Ring Room, and Sam and Dean who must have been in the Rum Room, even though that was the coldest room in the Cave.

“And what did you say, then?” asked Li Jing. Gap-Year was in the middle of telling a story, but it was interrupted by Hannah’s coming in.

“I just sort of changed the subject. I asked her how her sister was doing.”

That got mixed responses from the group. Some laughed, others cringed.

“That’s 100% how _not_ to get a girl,” said Claude in that sinister deep British voice of his.

“How did you and Li Jing get together?”

Li Jing smiled nervously. “You tell them!”

“I,” he sounded slightly nervous. “I played guitar outside her window.”

“Love songs?”

“No – it was a bit of everything, wasn’t it? Things I wrote, mostly improv,” Claude replied, looking at his wife. He looked slightly embarrassed, lowering the brim of his hat to hide his face. She looked elated.

“Go on,” Hannah urged. “We could do with a bit of music!”

Claude supressed a cough. The room creaked, like it was a hand that had drawn into a fist. Claude began to sing. It was rhythmic and slightly operatic, without any hesitation or nerves. Hannah was impressed.

_There was a little girl_

_With eyes as cold as ice_

_She went into a haunted cellar_

_Ignored her parents’ advice_

_At first she saw his fanged grin_

_Then she saw his claws_

_He sized her up and then he sprang_

_Her between his jaws_

_But eat her, he did not that day_

_Though that was his plan_

_Turned out that they couldn’t touch_

_He was a phantom_

_She rushed out of the cellar_

_Squealing as she ran_

_Swore respect to her elders_

_Now she’d met the bogeyman_

_So if you’re in a cellar_

_And feel those jaws of death_

_Remember they can do no harm_

_‘cause their owner draws no breath_

“Just had to go with a song about ghosts, huh?” complained Gap-Year with a shiver. His was leaning against his big rucksack. It looked too lumpy to be comfortable.

“Don’t you see? The message is that we shouldn’t be afraid of them. For all their talk, ghosts can’t hurt us,” Li Jing said. She had her arm around her husband’s shoulders. Appeared to have enjoyed his little song, no wonder they were a couple.

“Plan doesn’t rhyme with phantom,” Neven added, a helpful critique. No one replied.

Hannah quite liked the song. It reminded her of the sort of things her grandmother would say when she was little, sitting on her heather-scented apron.

“Whatever,” said Gap-Year, getting up. He left his bag. “I need to pee.”

“Go in the corner of the corridor, just outside this room,” Hannah replied. They’d been down here for two hours, maybe more. Someone was bound to need a piss at some point, and the best place seemed like somewhere where they wouldn’t sit.

“Where we first saw the ghost?” Hannah could see the tension in Gap-Year’s body, running all the way to those evil curls. He didn’t doubt it was a ghost. But he clearly didn’t want anyone to see that he was scared of the dark, or what lurked in the dark.

“Hey Hannah, can I borrow you for a minute?” came a new voice. Sam and his creepy ‘brother’ Dean, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah that’s the corridor. Go on, mark your territory,” Hannah said to Gap-Year.

Gap-Year edged past Sam and Dean.

“What do you want?” Hannah asked Sam. The duo joined the circle.

“We were wondering about the ghost we all saw.”

“What about it?”

“Whose ghost was it? And why would it lock us in here?”

Hannah took a deep breath. Whoever they were, they knew their ghosts – no tourists carried EMF meters in their pockets. They must be ghostnuts, like that ridiculous web series. Ghostfacers, that was the one.

“It was a ghost known as Bloody Kathy,” Hannah began. “She was the wife of an eighteenth century merchant who traded rum to sailors. They owned the room you and Dean were sitting in – the cold one – which we call the Rum Room. The stories say that she found her husband down here with a sailor, fooling around.”

A banging started up in the corner, as if the ghost was angry, thumping on the wall to get her to stop like a neighbour complaining about too-loud music.

“A day later, she killed him in the old wicca circle, drained his blood and put it in an empty rum barrel. She sold it to the sailor who had been fooling around with her husband – and he drank it, thinking it was rum.”

“That’s gross,” said Claude. He looked slightly green under his Indiana Jones hat.

“And that’s why the wicca circle is haunted.”

Sam nodded. “But…”

“But what?” Hannah asked.

“But, nothing.”

“She was caught eventually, and made to pay with her own life, in the same way as her husband – in the middle of the wicca ring.”

Hannah let the story sink in with silence. But then came a piercing scream from the other room.


	6. Patrick

Sam and Dean, Hannah and Neven and Claude and Li Jing all rushed into the Ring Room at breakneck speed. The first thing Hannah saw was Gap-Year, who was visibly trembling and murmuring to himself. He was staring at the floor. Hannah followed his gaze to the wicca ring, where the body of Patrick stared glossy-eyed at the ceiling. The sunglasses lay in two pieces above his head, outside the circle. And now there was a knife in his heart.

“Okay, nothing to see,” Hannah said. She shepherded the troops out of the room. They stared for a moment, and then realised that actually they didn’t want to see Patrick’s corpse. Claude’s face seemed to display the widest range of emotions: calm, fear, shock, calm, shock.

All of them left. All except for two of the group: Sam and Dean.

Hannah put her hands gently on Gap-Year’s shoulders, and turned him away from the body. She handed him over to Li Jing, who guided him back to the Red Room along with Claude and Neven.

Sam and Dean had already made themselves comfortable, scrutinising his body like it was a pretty chair in a furniture shop.

“Uh, you two are guests. You should head to the Red Room, and not tamper with the evidence when the police get here.”

“There’s no need,” Dean said. He pulled something from his pocket, at the precise same time as Sam. They showed her some ID cards, which Hannah could just about read by the light of the two candles.

“I knew it! You are CIA! I mean, I guessed police, but CIA is pretty damn close,” Hannah felt happy to be proved right, but then realised how inappropriate it was given the corpse in the room. She coached her expression into something suitably sullen. “I’m just really good at figuring out those sorts of things.”

Sam didn’t reply. He crouched by Patrick’s head.

“Don’t touch the circle!” Hannah cautioned.

Sam put his hands up in the air, showing he wasn’t going to lay a finger on it. Dean joined him. They muttered something to each other.

“Strange that his glasses are broken. And look – that stone’s been moved slightly. You can see by the dirt which runs in a line from where the rock was.” Sam pointed.

“Why should that make a difference?”

“When you’re investigating a murder, everything makes a difference.” Sam.

“And this has happened before, kid?” Dean. Hannah didn’t like being called kid. She was twenty-two. She could drink what she liked, screw who she liked, do how she liked. She wasn’t a kid.

“Yeah. It’s happened a couple times over the centuries. Like I said earlier, it’s the ghost of Bloody Kathy. She killed her husband in the wicca ring; she was executed in the wicca ring; and now she lures people to their deaths in that same wicca ring. Anyone who wanders in, willingly or not.”

Sam stood up. “It’s plausible. I mean, we’ve met ghosts before that could interact with physical objects, like knives.”

“When you said you were FBI, do they have a Scully and Mulder Department?”

“I don’t like it.” Dean.

“It makes the most sense. I mean, who else could it be if it wasn’t Bloody Kathy?” Hannah argued.

Sam and Dean’s eyes came to rest on her. “Seriously? You think I could have killed him, and dragged him into a haunted ring for no reason at all?”

“You and him were in this room together, before he died.”

“But by that logic, it could be anyone! I went to join the group in the Red Room. You – either of you – could have come in, stabbed him and left, too.”

“We were together the whole time.” Sam.

“Why should I trust you? You’re brothers, right? How far are you willing to go for each other?”

They gulped. She knew they’d gone pretty damn far for each other.

“And it was Gap-Year who found him – even though he said he was going to pee, which is next to the Red Room so there’d be no reason to come around here,” Hannah continued. “What do we know about him? He could easily be playing the victim. Could have killed Patrick and pretended to be afraid so no one would suspect him.” Hannah felt very pleased at her ability to remember everything so far, like a proper detective.

“Hell, it could be anyone,” Hannah said, thinking back to her first impressions. Everyone gave off an Addams family vibe. She hoped her statement didn’t sound paranoid, but the idea that anyone could be the murderer was somewhat paranoid. Okay, _very_ paranoid.

Dean made a humming noise that sounded like he was annoyed.

“What did you and Patrick talk about?”

“What?”

“When he was alive, and you sat together, what did you and Patrick talk about?”

“I don’t know. We smoked up.” She clutched at the last joint in her upper pocket. It felt like a lifeline. “We talked about the ghost – Bloody Kathy – and what she said to us. It’s all a bit hazy, what with Mary Jane.”

Sam narrowed his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Hannah put her hands to her mouth. “Please don’t tell on me! I know dope’s illegal, but… My parents would kill me if they knew I-”

“-Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us,” Dean said. He eyed up Patrick’s body. “I mean, in the grand scheme of things, what’s a little rule breaking here and there?”

Hannah breathed out.

“So who do you think killed him?” Dean asked Hannah.

“I think it was Bloody Kathy.”

“I think so too.” Sam. “You?”

“I think it’s that kid,” Dean said. Hannah held her breath again. “What do you call him? Gap-Year?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it was Gap-Year. Hannah’s right. He’s a shifty guy who could easily be trying to play dumb.”

“Damn, I thought you were going to accuse _me_ there!” Hannah. They all smiled at each other.

“So how do we figure out who it was?”

“Good question.”

“In murder mysteries they always recreate the scene of the murder to visualise who was where,” Hannah contributed helpfully.

“But will our ghost friend Bloody Mary play along?”

“Kathy.” Hannah.

“Huh?”

“Her name’s Bloody Kathy.”

“Good to see you’re on the ball.”

“Or in mysteries, they interview everyone to establish a motive.”

“What motive would anyone have? Everyone just met him about an hour before he died. He can’t have done anything murder-worthy within an hour.” Unless it was that ghost. It seemed to know about their lives, before they even set foot in the Cave.

Hannah was out of ideas.

“Bloody Kathy said ‘talk, and you will be free’. I think we need to air our secrets, then we’ll be out of here. We can find her body and cremate her. She was buried, right?” Sam turned to Hannah, the resident expert on local ghosts.

“Uh… I don’t know. But maybe one of my colleagues know. Why does it matter?”

Sam didn’t answer her question. “And maybe along the way we’ll find our murderer. And if no one confesses, it must be Kathy who killed him. Reveal our secrets, solve the murder – it’s killing two birds with one stone.”


	7. Eavesdrop

“Do the FBI deal with ghosts and stuff then? Is there anything else out there?” Hannah asked.

“Sometimes the FBI do. And ghosts are the only thing that go bump in the night.” That was an obvious lie. It made her wonder what else there was – what about vampires? She’d love to be a vampire. She loved the dark and had excellent vision as it was. Werewolves didn’t seem quite as appealing – all that hair and howling.

Hannah headed back to the Red Room, leaving Sam and Dean with the corpse. She heard the troops’ conspiratorial voices and hovered in the doorway.

“Don’t worry, Li Jing. We’ll all get out of here in one piece.” Claude.

“No, no. I’m next. The ghost will get me next.” Li Jing. She was holding something in her trembling hands. A photo. Hannah shuffled to get a closer look. She could see it was a picture of a boy, grinning at the camera, while his father had a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think it is a ghost that… you know,” Gap-Year announced. He was clinging to his bag like it would save him.

“What else could it be?”

“It could be a human.”

“You think it’s Hannah, don’t you?”

“… Yes.”

“Why?”

Gap-Year shifted so that he was right next to Li Jing. Then he said conspiratorially: “She looks like she’s hiding something. Even the ghost said she was mad.” Hannah could see Gap-Year reach into Li Jing’s pocket and take something out, all without her noticing. The bastard! He was stealing from her! And she hadn’t even noticed.

“I think it’s one of those weird blokes, or both of them.” Claude. “When they joined the group, the taller one leaned over slightly, and I saw the butt of a gun, which he’d tucked into his belt. I could easily imagine there’s a knife tucked in there somewhere too. What is it with Americans and their weapons?!”

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Neven said, slightly hushed. He was right next to Hannah. How he got there, she’d never know. It took all of Hannah’s ability not to cry out. She was almost in tears.

“Neven! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Hannah whispered furiously.

The conversation paused. Damn, they’d heard her. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Claude took charge. “Spirit, I summon thee!”

“Sorry, not a spirit, it’s only me.” Hannah and Neven stepped forward, into the dim light of the candles in the Red Room.

No one spoke. It felt like that time Hannah’s mother forced her to go to the birthday party of a girl who wasn’t her friend. The same hush surrounded her then, too. The stakes were a bit higher this time. She didn’t want to join them anymore, it felt like cabin fever was starting to set in.

“Nature calls,” Hannah said, she left the room. She felt like an idiot for appearing and disappearing. It definitely looked suspicious. But it was too late to do anything about it now.

Instead of going to the corridor outside of the Red Room, she headed back to find where Sam and Dean were. She wasn’t sure what to make of the brothers – they could even be murderers. But she felt a little less afraid around them than Claude, Li Jing and Gap-Year. Hannah entered the Ring Room. It felt eerily quiet. Not even the walls were creaking. Patrick’s body lay sprawled in the circle still – getting him out of there without touching the ring would be tricky. She’d leave it to the police once they were out of here.

There was only one more room where the brothers could be, the Rum Room. Hannah waited in the threshold again. She was surprised to hear soft moans in the dark.

Hannah was worried at first that the moans were of pain, but soon realised it was pleasure. She could see them, standing locked together in a hot embrace in the cold room. They were panting gently between kisses. Fully clothed, mind, but Hannah didn’t think it would stay that way for long.

“Dean, we shouldn’t. We’ve got a case to solve.” Sam. His voice was breathy, and he traced Dean’s spine over his clothes, starting from his neck and heading down. “Besides, anyone could walk in. Not to mention, ghosts may or may not be watching.”

“Why don’t you stop first?” Dean replied. His mouth came to rest on Sam’s neck, kissing or biting.

“I don’t want to stop.” He arched his back.

“Nor do I.” Dean. “Guess that settles it.”

Sam’s hand snaked under Dean’s waistband. The moaning intensified.

“Did I already mention that by when we get back to the bunker, I’m going to- uuhh”  

“Something about new territory, right?” Exquisite torture.

“Uh-huh.” Dean couldn’t seem to find words. But sounds seemed to be good enough. “Wait!”

Sam drew back. “What?”

“I thought I heard…?”

“Probably just the weird creaky walls.”

Dean stared right at Hannah, and she knew she’d been rumbled.

She walked towards them, into the Rum Room, with a slow clap. “I was hoping for a bit more action, to be honest,” she said. “But that did look pretty hot and heavy, so I give you an A minus for turning me on.”

They both narrowed their eyes, like tigers about to pounce. “This wasn’t about you, kid. Maybe you should butt out.”

“Sure, sure. I thought you wanted to sit in a circle and point fingers to reveal people’s secrets. But I guess we don’t need to.” Hannah. “Now we know your secret. Your secret is that you’re not brothers, you’re lovers. If you do share the same surname, it’s because your married. Are you really so ashamed of your relationship that you keep it in the dark?”

Neither Sam nor Dean replied. She was shocked at how these guys could be so in love with each other, but only admit that in the dark, icy confines of Agatha Cave.

“Well?” Hannah commanded. She liked feeling in charge. Especially of these two grown men. For all their muscles and fancy FBI jobs, they looked like boys who’d been caught smoking behind a bike shed.

“You really want to be a detective, huh kid?”

Hannah smiled. She was on fire. She’d solved one secret, now just a few more to go. Next stop: the murderer.

“You’re way off the mark.” Dean.

“Don’t-” Sam interrupted. But no, Dean was going to spill the secrets.

“Maybe we _are_ brothers. And maybe we _aren’t_ FBI.”

Hannah took a step back. “But you kissed. Like proper kissed. Like made-out kissed – hang on, you’re not FBI?! Then who the hell are you?”

Sam grinned. “Scully and Mulder department. Sounds about right.”

“If you’re so keen to expose all of _our_ secrets kid,” he approached her, zombie-slow but oh too quick. “What about you? What are you hiding?”


	8. Solution

Hannah ran to the Red Room, leaving Sam and Dean standing blankly in the dark. Her choices were a rock and a hard place now. Stick with Sam and Dean, who wanted her to spill her secrets, or sit with the rest of the troops, who suspected her of murder. She could always sit with Patrick, but somehow that didn’t seem appealing either. She decided she was safer with the troops than in the hands of Sam and Dean. She felt confused about their relationship – surely it was wrong? It was illegal, right? And she had _watched_ them!

“Are you alright Hannah?” Claude asked, upon noticing her presence.

Hannah thought she was shaking. She was embarrassed and angry and frightened. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Come, join us.” They made space for her. One moment it seemed like they were conspiring against her, and now they were welcoming her into their group. She was confused. Maybe she had just imagined them ganging up on her? Paranoia, right?

She sat down, wondering if she was a sheep in a pack of wolves.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Look – you’re shaking.”

“I know the Cave isn’t the ideal place for an overnight stay, but it’s alright. We’re still alive and unharmed.”

“Not Patrick,” Neven said. Not exactly helpful, but he wasn’t renowned for his helpfulness.

“We’ll get out of here,” Li Jing reasserted.

Hannah’s fingers went to her pocket, and she ran her fingers over the last joint. It was calling to her like water to quench thirst. “Would anyone mind if I…?” she pulled out the waxy paper.

“Heck, tonight’s been awful. Only light up if I can join you,” Gap-Year said. It was the voice of someone who’d never had dope before but wanted to sound like one of the gang.

She lit the joint in the candle light and took a drag. She felt her lungs expand, and fingers of careful calm spread over her. It felt warm, like she’d stepped out of the Cave and into sunlight on a field. An image flashed through her mind – Bella and Edward from _Twilight_ , they stared at each other while sitting on a field. The way Sam and Dean had stared at each other, hands over each other’s bodies. She blew the thought away. Tried to think of summer and fields and calm. No darkness, no Cave, no dead body in the room next door.

Hannah wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but Claude started singing:

_Dion drove down the road_

_Looking in his rearview mirror_

_Was that car following him? –_

_Look it was getting nearer!_

_He turned left on the roundabout_

_And so did that red car_

_Dion thought of getting out, he did_

_He knew he wouldn’t get far_

_So when he pulled up at his drive_

_He thought he walked into a trap_

_The red car pulled up right next door_

_Turned out it was his neighbour, Arap_

_And the moral of this story, people_

_Is not to fear what needn’t be feared_

_Lots of things look bad and evil_

_But they aren’t what they first appeared_

The joint passed hands. She felt like she’d made friends. Networking with Mary Jane. She thought that everyone else took it – first Gap-Year, than Li Jing, then Claude. Then Sam, and Dean. How long had they been in the Red Room? How long had passed?

The Cave was starting to feel too hot. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she could feel her t-shirt sticking to her back. Her mind felt thick and foggy, and not in a good way.

The words were ringing in her head:

_And the moral of this story, people_

_Is not to fear what needn’t be feared_

_Lots of things look bad and evil_

_But they aren’t what they first appeared_


	9. Past and Present

“We all know your secret now,” Claude said. Sinister.

The fog cleared from Hannah’s mind. The candle had nearly burned down to its wick now. She’d been fuzzed up for quite a while. Maybe another two hours. The others had been spaced out with her too, but now the fog cleared from everyone.

“You’re a pothead. ‘Madness in your breast’? That’s the most cryptic way I’ve ever heard someone say ‘a joint in your breast-pocket’. But I guess ghosts aren’t known for their straightforwardness,” Claude said.

Hannah felt a lump in her throat. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Pothead.”

“How else should I say it?”

“I don’t know. Pothead just makes it sound like a choice, like being a vegan or a school administrations officer. I don’t want this. But I need it. I can’t… _not_.”

“I guess I know why we’re not getting our refunds now. You need the money to fund a drug habit.” Li Jing said. She sounded angry. Even though she had inhaled too.

There was a banging, like the ghost wanted to add something to the conversation. With her fist on a wall. It was hot in this room, too hot.

“What, you all think you’re so innocent?” Hannah said, raising her voice. “That photo you had, who was it?”

“What photo?” Li Jing.

“You were holding a photo earlier. When you were worried we wouldn’t make it out of here. Show me.” She didn’t do anything. “Show me!”

“It’s nothing, Hannah,” Claude said. He had his arm around his wife, who was slightly frightened by Hannah’s harsh tone. “It’s a photo of Li Jing’s younger brother. It’s okay, just show her, Li.”

Li Jing went through her pockets. She couldn’t find it, and her expression changed to panic.

“That’s because you don’t have it,” Hannah said.

“You’re saying the ghost took it?” Li Jing asked. Her voice was genuine, not sarcastic. She looked scared. She’d lost something very valuable to her. Hannah could relate, she’d just burned her last joint to ashes.

“No.”

“Then who did?”

“Rudy, could you turn out your pockets for the class, please?” Hannah.

Now it was Gap-Year’s turn to look worried.

“Turn them out!” Hannah commanded.

He complied. Out of fear, if nothing else, and the folded photo fell to the floor.

“Rudy, how have you been paying for your gap year?”

“…”

“Because I think I’ve figured out your secret. You’re a thief, Rudy. You steal things. If they’re worth money, good, you sell them on their merry way. And if they’re worth sentimental value – like, say, a photo – you blackmail them. If they want to see their valuables again, they better pay up. Does that sound about right?”

“…”

Hannah noticed Sam’s expression. He hadn’t expected her to be such a good detective. But she wasn’t going to stop there. She was on a roll. She was going to expose everyone’s secrets, one by one, and they would walk out of here without daggers in their hearts.

Hannah picked up the photo, unfolded it. She looked at the faces, beaming out happily from across the paper.

“Nice family, isn’t it?” Hannah. Li Jing nodded, but there was a shadow in her eyes. Hannah couldn’t remember exactly what the ghost said, but she was sure she was on the right lines with her theory. “Your brother, you say? And that must be your little nephew?”

“Give it back.”

“It’s funny how we always hold the things dearest to us in hours of need. You thought you were going to die in the Cave tonight. So you held onto this picture,” Hannah paused. “He’s not your brother, is he?”

“I said, give it back.”

Claude ran his hand through his moustache. “Li, what’s happening? If he’s not your brother, who is he?”

“No, brothers and sisters look alike. That man, he was your husband.”

The room went quiet. It was quite an accusation.

“How do you know they were married?” Claude asked. He was nervous. He didn’t know who to believe.

“Wedding ring, duh.”

 “Li? What does she mean?”

Li Jing didn’t say anything. Then she faltered. “I- no. He was my adopted brother.”

“That’s a lie. The kid looks a little like you – same ears. Your son. You said you didn’t have kids earlier, but you have him.”

She didn’t reply.

 “It’s a lie, isn’t it, Li? Hannah’s making it up.”

“I’m sorry,” came a new voice. Sam. He sounded gentle, but he wanted to get to the bottom of the problem. “How old are you, Li Jing? You must be born in the late eighties, I’m guessing?”

“What the hell does that matter?” Dean interrupted.

“Yes, she was born in 1989,” Claude contributed helpfully. He wanted to get to the bottom of the problem too.

“China had a one-child policy in that time. It would be very unlikely for Li Jing to have a sibling,” Sam said. He sounded like a nerd.  

“Li?”

Li Jing took a deep breath. “They’re telling the truth.” She looked so ashamed, and Hannah softened a little. Not much, but a little.

“What happened?” Claude said. He was struggling to take everything in. “Why did I- What?”

“I’m sorry.” Li Jing. “It was a long time ago.”

“You’ve got a son who I never even knew about.”

“Yes.”

“How come I’ve never met him? Or even heard about him?!”

Li Jing tried to put her hand over Claude’s but he jerked back. “Because I abandoned him. He doesn’t know who I am or where I am. I left. Leaving him was the worst thing I ever did, and I regret it every day.”

“And your… that man?”

“I abandoned them both and left for England. A fresh country, a fresh start.”

“But I-” Claude’s moustache quivered. “How did…? Hmph.”

Li Jing stood. “Are you happy now, ghost? You’ve wrecked my marriage.”

Hannah felt a shiver down her spine. She felt the ghost’s presence. By everyone else’s wide-eyes, she knew they did too. It was a blast of coolness, struggling against the oppressive heat.

“I’m sorry to drag the past into the present,” the ghost said. Hannah couldn’t see her, but her voice sounded like someone had turned a microphone all the way up. “But we all have our secrets. And some are worse than yours, Li Jing.”


	10. The Unspoken Apology

The ghost’s presence faded, and was replaced by the faint stomach-like sounds of the walls expanding and contracting.

“Well, I guess that leaves us with four other people whose secrets haven’t been aired out,” Li Jing said angrily. “Whose life do you want to ruin next, Detective?”

Hannah didn’t feel angry any more. She just felt tired. The pasta salad in the fridge at home was weighing on her mind, more than any thoughts of ghosts or knives or mysteries. She wanted to go home, maybe even leave her job at the Agatha Cave.

“I… don’t know,” Hannah replied. By four people, she must have been referring to Sam, Dean, Claude and Neven. “Well, I already found out that Sam and Dean are secret lovers who solve supernatural crime. That’s just obvious.”

But she had no idea what Neven could possibly be hiding. Dear, loyal Neven, who never spoke out against Hannah even when he didn’t agree with her. So that left her with one person, Claude. But what was he hiding.

“What did the ghost say about you, Claude?” Hannah asked. He didn’t volunteer the information, still digesting the news about his wife. It must be a strange feeling to find out you’re a polygamist.

“The ghost said: ‘You, Li Jing chased your dreams and left ice in your wake. But your husband, he left fire.’” Sam. Hannah could do with some ice right about now. Not so much fire.

“I think I got this.” Dean. “You’ve seen death before.”

He stopped talking, proud of himself. Case closed.

“Dean, I think you’re going to need to say a bit more than that,” Sam told him.

“Uh, right. Yeah. When we found Patrick’s body, I knew that you had seen death before. You had that look on your face. Perhaps even caused it, am I right?”

“He’s the murderer! It wasn’t the ghost?” Gap-Year.

“No, no. I didn’t kill Patrick. I swear it!”

“It _was_ the ghost who killed him!” Gap-Year. So eager.

“But who did you kill?” Hannah prompted, softly. She’d already used up her strong voice on Li Jing and Gap-Year.

“Please, Claude. Your secret’s the last one. If you tell us, we can all get out of here.”

“I… can’t.”

“Please. Your one secret is worth all our freedom.” Sam.

Claude’s moustache quivered again. “I-”

Li Jing put her hands on his, and this time, he left them there. “Go on. It can’t be worse than mine. And even if it is, we’ll just have to find a way to get past this.”

“It was when we wanted to get married. I met Li’s parents, and wanted to get their blessing for the wedding.”

“How come you went to see your parents? I thought you fled China, like, under-cover-of-darkness sort of thing?” Hannah.

“I… yes. But he lived very far away from my parents, so I knew I could visit them without him ever knowing. They have never talked to each other after my marriage. My first one, I mean.” Li Jing.

“Okay,” said Hannah, sceptically. It was too hot to think properly.

“I wanted to get my parents’ approval. But they didn’t exactly approve,” Li Jing amended.

“Go ahead, Claude.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what it was about,” Claude ran a hand through his blond hair.

“I think you’re going to need to give our ghost a bit more information than that.”

“I’m working up to it.” Claude sighed. “Like Li said, her parents didn’t approve of the marriage. I thought it was because I was a foreigner, and her father didn’t want some dirty foreign stranger to marry their precious daughter. But looking back, I don’t know if it’s because they were racist, or because they wanted to save Li from being married to two men at once.”

Li Jing cast a guilty look.

“I couldn’t take being looked down on – not being important enough to marry the love of my life because I was from a different country. I couldn’t bear her father. He was always taunting me. Telling me to go home, because I didn’t belong in China. I didn’t belong with Li.” Claude put his hands in his lap. “So I killed him.”

“He passed away because of a heart attack. It was nature, calling that it was his time.” Li Jing said, trying to comfort him.

“No. I know he was your father, Li, but I wanted a taste of happiness. It felt like the world was just in shades of grey until you came into my life. Then it was like I saw colour for the first time – a kaleidoscope of greens and reds and blues and every hue that could possibly be imagined. Falling in love with you was like discovering a whole new world. I had to put us before him.

“I poisoned him. He used to start every day with a boiling-hot cup of Darjeeling tea, so I poisoned his cup that Sunday morning. Arsenic. He clutched at the table and didn’t understand what was happening at first. I brought him to the floor and held him while he died, an unspoken apology on my lips.”

Silence swept through the room. Suddenly Hannah didn’t feel so bad about her use of Mary Jane. That was nothing compared to full-blown murder. Heck, even Sam and Dean’s illicit love affair paled in comparison with this man, who _murdered_ his father-in-law because he couldn’t deal with being called a white boy.

“You – my bàbà! He wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but you killed him!” Li Jing screamed. Her gentle quiet manner was gone. She looked like a demon, straight from hell. “You killed my bàbà.”

“I’m… There aren’t any words to express how I feel. I’m so so sorry. But even that doesn’t describe how much I want to apologise. At the time I thought I was doing it for you, Li. He stood in the way of us.”

She screamed bàbà once more, and then broke down into tears. Claude was about to put his arm around her as comfort, but then thought better of it.

“In theory, that should be all our secrets uncovered,” Sam said. “So why isn’t the Gate open yet?”


	11. Spirit

The last candle died. They had been down there for so long that they had burned to the wick. Hannah knew her eyesight was the best, but she imagined the others could still tell who was who by their size, manner and voice. Even if they couldn’t entirely tell where they were. But she could just about see their faces.

“You’re right,” Claude said, latching onto the change in the conversation. “We’ve all shared our secrets, but we’re still stuck here.”

Hannah got up, she walked up to the Bronze Gate and tried to prise the doors apart. Her hands were slick with sweat, it was so hot. They stuck firm, and thrummed with a strange electric-sort of energy.

“That’ll never work,” said Sam, who figured out what she was doing. It was so dark now. Hannah felt more alone than ever. “Dean and I already tried. The ghost has such a strong hold on the door. She really wants to keep us here.”

“So we’re trapped here, until we die of thirst.” Hannah’s mouth already felt dry and the back of her throat burned insistently.

Sam didn’t reply.

“Ghost! Show yourself! Let us out of here!” Hannah shouted at the darkness.

Nothing happened.

“Come on, I know you’re there!”

Hannah could see a kernel of light in the distance. It came closer and got bigger, started to take on the shape of their captor. It came to a halt a few metres away.

“Let us out of here!”

“No.” The ghost.

“Why?! We’ve played along with your silly game. And now we’re done here!”

“But there’s still one secret left to be discovered.”

Hannah looked at Neven, who was standing by the others. He looked scared – they all did. Huddling in the dark, tired and scared, defeated and angry. And they all smelled strongly of sweat.

“No.” It was Dean who said it.

“Let us out,” Sam added. “Tell us where you’re buried, and we can burn your body. You can be at peace.”

“I want the final secret. I want payment for the wrong. I want blood to be drawn and-”

Whatever the ghost was going to say was cut off. Dean fired a gun at the ghost. When the bullet hit, the ghost exploded into smoke, and then reformed. Within three seconds, she looked ghostly again.

“I’m bored. Let us out of here.” Dean.

“You have a gun?” Gap-Year shouted, voice quivering.

“Yep.” Dean shot at the ghost again. It took a little longer for her to reform. “Rock salt and iron. Works like a charm on those bastards.”

The ghost advanced, slowly at first, then speeding up. Dean continued to shoot, and then Hannah realised there were two guns. Sam added to the gunfire. The ghost drew nearer and nearer, she had her arm ahead of her, as if she planned to wrap it around Hannah’s throat. She felt weak, having to rely on two men she’d only met two hours ago to stop the spirit.

But before the ghost could reach the group, she faltered. The bullets were too much. She fell to her knees, and then evaporated. They were plunged back into black

“Did you… kill her?” Li Jing.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean replied. He tucked his gun into his waistband. “She’s already dead. We just weakened her. Lucky for us, she hasn’t been dead long, so she’s not very powerful. And if we’re super-lucky…”

Hannah watched as Sam and Dean found their way to the Gate. Without the ghost’s light, they were near-blind. They had their hands out in front of them, trying to find the bronze bars. They looked oddly like zombies.

“If we’re super-lucky, what?”

Dean pulled one side of the gate, and Sam pulled the other. They put all their strength into it, and the gate creaked slowly, then gave way. Hannah had never heard a better sound in the world than the high-pitched squeal of the gate opening.

“Oh my god, you did it! We can get out!” Hannah couldn’t contain her excitement. She felt the heat dissipate in one fell swoop, leaving her cooler than she had been in hours. Relief flooded through her.

Hannah could hear the others letting out a breath, before taking in a breath of the cool, clean air. They stumbled through the gate, one by one.


	12. Chase

“Hannah, wait!” Sam.

Hannah looked back. She was just past the gate, Neven with his hand in her’s with Sam and Dean behind her. “What?”

“We need to get Patrick’s body out of there. We can’t just leave him surrounded by ghosts.”

“He’s already dead, what can they possibly do to him?” Hannah argued. She didn’t want to go back in there. It was hot and dark. To call it unpleasant was an understatement. She wanted to walk outside. It must be early morning now, and she wanted to watch the sun rise, to remind her that she was alive.

“It’s too horrible to mention. Could you just give us a hand? Please?”

“Why me? You two are strapping lads – with guns, no less. You’re not hiding a bottle of water in any place too, are you? I’m thirsty.”

“With three of us, we’ll get it done quickly, without anyone touching the cursed wicca circle. And besides, you look the most… not traumatised.” The others had run off, pure and simple. They were like moths, heading out to the sun.

Damn it, Sam. “Fine. But make it quick.” She let go of Neven’s hand.

Hannah headed back through the Gate, into the Cave, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Dean blocked the gate, and panic rose in her. “What are you doing?” She tried to get around him. He stayed firm, trapping her back in the Cave. “Guys? Sam?” Hannah turned to Sam, who was a few paces away.

“I’m sorry, Hannah.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

She focused on Sam’s dark eyes. Then she felt the air move behind her and knew Dean had shifted. Was that a knife in his hand? He swung out with his arm, trying to catch Hannah’s head. She ducked and turned to him. The only thought running through her head was one word, over and over: run. Hannah tried to dart around Dean, to escape from the Cave. He saw her plan and blocked her. Sam’s hands found her wrists in the dark, and he pinned her arms back behind her, stopping her from running.

Hannah was caged. She felt wild and reckless and desperate. She planted her knee between Sam’s legs, catching him squarely in the groin. He let her wrists drop. She knew she had the advantage here. The Cave had provided her with the one thing she needed: she could see well in the dark. Hannah managed to avoid Dean’s grasp as he stumbled blindly for her waving the knife in front of him. She evaded his searching arms.

Hannah ran back out of the Bronze Gate, and kept running, all the way out of the Jaws of Death, back through the mouth of Hell.

She heard them. After one moment of confusion, Sam and Dean gathered their wits, and realised she had given them the slip. They were in pursuit. She ran.


	13. Catch

Two weeks had passed since that night in Agatha Cave. Since then, she had never returned to the underground. She had quit her job and spent days moping around the house. Her roommates were beginning to worry about her, she knew, but they didn’t know what to do, so they mostly just left her alone.

She had stopped seeing ghosts around every corner, or Sam and Dean. At first she was worried that they would find her and carry out their evil plans, but after about a week, the tension had left her body. She wasn’t worried about them anymore. Or their knives or guns. Whoever they were, they wouldn’t find her.

She’d read in the papers about Patrick’s murder. Just like the last one, police investigated but couldn’t understand it. They pinned it on the ghost. Again. Hadn’t even bothered to find Hannah to interview her about that night, or any of her troops. It was like the police couldn’t be bothered. They had chalked Patrick’s death up to a supernatural agent that the police didn’t even believe in. Now that was laziness in action.

“There’s someone here to see you.” It was her roommate, Danielle. She was standing in the doorway. “Are you okay?”

She was sitting in her bed, blanket draped around her body. She felt cold, even though it wasn’t cold in the house. Since that night, she always felt cold.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t give their names. Said they were FBI. Are you okay? You look pale.”

“Don’t let them come in.”

“They don’t seem like the sort of people you can ignore. They’re just by the front door. Talk to them and they’ll go away.”

“They’re not FBI, and I can’t let them see me.” She stood up, looked around her room. There must be somewhere to hide. The cupboard maybe? Under the bed? No, they would find her. She knew they would. She couldn’t go through the window, they were too high up. But that same desperation washed over her like it did two weeks ago when she slipped them. In the dark she could beat them, but here, in her well-lit house, there was no chance.

She rushed into the corridor, her breath catching in her throat. She could hear Danielle talking to Sam and Dean by the front door. Where to go? What to do? She had to get out. Run.

“There you are!” Dean. Danielle moved out the way for them, truly believing they were FBI. But she knew the truth.

“I-” she felt him pin her arms back, and something cold wrapped around her wrists. He had handcuffed her. How dare he?!

“I’m sorry, but we don’t want you giving us the slip this time. Just come back with us to the station and we’ll get everything ironed out, nicely. How does that sound to you?” Sam.

She swore.

She struggled to escape the handcuffs, but it was no use. When Dean started leading her out of the house, she struggled and spat and swore. Then she begged. First she begged Danielle to help her. Then she begged Sam and Dean. But there was nothing she could do, nowhere to run.

They led her to a black car – she didn’t know anything about cars, but she knew it was old and probably expensive. She struggled feebly one last time, but they took all her violence in their stride. Dean forced her into the car.

In the end, Sam and Dean didn’t take her to the station as they’d said to Danielle. They took her to some place far worse; they took her to her end.


	14. Wellness

WESTMACOTT WELLNESS CENTRE

RHODA MATHILDA HENSON & DR. CREIGHTON J. BELL, PSYD

OCTOBER 10   //   11:12 P.M.

_This appointment has been recorded and transcribed by Xander Hercule of the University of Cholsey to offer research insight into psychological health issues. A copy of this transcript will also be delivered to the local Police Station to be as evidence for the Agatha Cave Murder Investigation. The transcripts are kept in accordance with the Data Protection Laws._

DR:                        Rhoda, how have you been doing since the last time we spoke?

RHODA:               I’ve been better. I’ve been a lot better.

DR:                        Sorry to hear it. But you’ve been here for a month now, am I right? How are you finding Westmacott?

RHODA:               That’s a joke, right?

DR:                        Last time we talked, I set you a task. I asked you to write down what happened in Agatha Cave. And yesterday morning, your thirteen-chapter novel was delivered to my desk.

RHODA:               Did you read it? What did you think?

DR:                        I was hoping we could talk about it today.

RHODA:               You didn’t like it, did you?

DR:                        It’s not about whether I enjoyed it or not. It’s a tool to help you get better. The first thing I wanted to ask is why did you write it from Hannah’s point of view?

RHODA:               Because _I_ wasn’t there that night. Hannah was.

DR:                        And Hannah is…?

RHODA:               I’m not her. She can use me sometimes, and I just stand aside and watch her. It’s like being possessed.

DR:                        This morning, I went to Agatha Cave to do my own detective work. I know it’s nearly two months after the event, but people were acting as if it had happened just yesterday. But anyway, I found something quite interesting.

RHODA:               …What?

DR:                        Seven of you went into the Cave that night. That’s what your co-worker Samantha said.

RHODA:               So what?

DR:                        In your novel you said there were eight: Li-Jing, Claude, Patrick, Rudy, Sam, Dean, Neven and you. I found references to tickets booked by six of them, and obviously you didn’t need a ticket because you were the tour guide. So that’s seven. And I think I worked it out. Neven – he doesn’t exist, does he?

RHODA:               …

DR:                        Or at least, not in reality. Rhoda, do you know what ‘paranoid’ means?

RHODA:               It’s like where you’re always worried about a conspiracy – like if you think a car is following you on the road when it’s just someone going home from work. Or if you think your friend knows your secret when there’s no way they can know it.

DR:                        Yes, that’s one of the definitions. Do you know where the word comes from?

RHODA:               Latin?

DR:                        Greek. ‘Para’ means ‘beside’ and ‘noid’ means ‘mind’. Paranoia is the mind – or minds, plural - beside your own mind. In medical terms it’s classed as ‘paranoid schizophrenia’. It is characterised by hearing voices or paranoia like the definition you provided. In rare cases, the sufferer can have a mind beside their own mind, like what Hannah is to you. Or they can even be a mind in a separate, imagined body, like Neven. You are Hannah wrapped in Neven inside Rhoda.

RHODA:               Hannah and Neven aren’t _me_. You can say what you want about them being part of me or whatever bullshit you’re going to pull, but that’s the truth. They’re not me.

DR:                        Of course. And that’s why we’re sitting here in the wellness centre rather than anywhere else that Sam and Dean could have brought you. You need to get well. I know this is really hard to discuss, but what about chapter twelve – the last chapter in the Cave?

RHODA:               What about it?

DR:                        You’re suggesting Sam and Dean killed Patrick. You even write: “Was that a knife in his hand?” – ‘his’ being Sam’s hand. And later, “Hannah managed to avoid Dean’s grasp as he stumbled blindly for her waving the knife in front of him”. But that’s not true, is it? The whole chapter played out differently, didn’t it?

RHODA:               …

DR:                        I understand how upsetting this is, and I understand if you don’t want to discuss it.

RHODA:               You’re right. I _don’t_ want to discuss it.

DR:                        However, you need to face everything that happened in the Cave, whether it was caused by you or Hannah or Neven. And real or not, you can keep the ghosts, and keep Hannah as the main character, rather than yourself. But I would like you to rewrite that chapter and give it to me next week. This time I want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

INTERVIEW CONCLUDED


	15. Rewrite

“Hannah, wait!” Sam.

Hannah looked back. She was just past the gate, Neven with his hand in her’s with Sam and Dean behind her. “What?”

“We need to get Patrick’s body out of there. We can’t just leave him surrounded by ghosts.”

“He’s already dead, what can they possibly do to him?” Hannah argued. She didn’t want to go back in there. She wanted to walk outside. It must be early morning now, and she wanted to watch the sun rise, to remind her that she was alive.

“It’s too horrible to mention. Could you just give us a hand? Please?”

“Why me? You two are strapping lads – with guns, no less. You’re not hiding a bottle of water in any place too, are you? I’m thirsty.”

“With three of us, we’ll get it done quickly, without anyone touching the cursed wicca circle. And besides, you look the most… not traumatised.” The others had run off, pure and simple. They were like moths, heading out to the sun.

Damn it, Sam. “Fine. But make it quick.” She let go of Neven’s hand.

Hannah headed back through the Gate, into the Cave, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Dean blocked the gate, and panic rose in her. “What are you doing?” She tried to get around him. He stayed firm, trapping her back in the Cave. “Guys? Sam?” Hannah turned to Sam, who was a few paces away.

“I’m sorry, Hannah.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

“We figured it out.”

“What?” Hannah turned to Dean. She wanted to run. She wanted to get out of the Cave and never return. “Dean?”

“But some of the things you said just don’t add up. You said the wicca ring was nineteenth century, right?” Sam.

“Yeah, I did. Can we just go? We can talk history when we’re not down here with a freaky ghost in the dark.”

“But you said that the ghost that’s been convincing us to spill our secrets over the last few hours – Bloody Kathy – she’s from the eighteenth century.”

 “So what?”

Sam darted forward and grabbed her wrists. He pinned them behind her. “So how can a ghost kill people in a wicca ring if the wicca ring didn’t exist until a century later?” Sam asked. Hannah struggled, trying to break free of his grip.

“Aren’t you lucky my brother’s such a nerd, Hannah?” Dean added. “I mean, I kinda figured it out too, kid. That ghost couldn’t be Bloody Kathy from days gone by. She was wearing a Hello Kitty hoodie and had a fitbit on. And she’s not that powerful, meaning she’s not that old. I think she’s the ghost of the first victim who was murdered a few months back. Which leaves the question, who killed her? And why does she want us to spill our secrets?”

“Hannah, you were the only one who was around for all three murders. And you’ve been lying about the details to cover it up. The ghost was seeking revenge on you, trying to bring you to justice.” Sam.

“No, no that’s not true. The ghost-”

“Don’t try to lie. If lying has shown us anything tonight, it’s that lying leads to secrets, and secrets break people. Why did you do it?”

Hannah’s lungs felt tight. Everything felt constricted, like an invisible vice was pressing on her. It was guilt. “The first two – they were plotting against me. Rose – the ghost – I could see it in her eyes. And James too. He knew the secret, so I had no choice. He forced my hand. But I’m clever, see? I thought when life gives you a cave full of ghosts, blame it on the ghosts. Even managed to fool the police.”

The brothers paused, unsure. “And Patrick? I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but he didn’t strike me as the brightest spark.”

“Or suspicious, in any way.” Dean added.

Hannah slipped her hand into her waistband, where she kept a knife. Normally one on either side, but one was currently buried within Patrick’s chest. “Do you know what Patrick’s secret was?”

They didn’t know.

“It was a _bad_ secret,” Hannah said. “I don’t know how to phrase it nicely. But let’s just say he wasn’t interested in _women_ , he was interested in _girls_. He told me about all his dirty little pursuits and conquests, and then he had the nerve to say that I’m ideal. That I’m twenty-two, but I have the physique of one of his beloved nymphets.”

Dean looked angry, Sam looked upset. They both looked murderous. If Hannah hadn’t killed Patrick, they would definitely have given him a good beating, perhaps even have stabbed him themselves.

“I tell him no, I’m not interested. Not even slightly,” Hannah said. “But there, in the dark, he puts his hand on my knee. I tell him again, gently. No. But he leans in for a kiss. And so I stand. He follows. I turn around, and before he knows, my knife is in my hand.”

“You stabbed him, and he collapsed on you,” Sam finished. “Then you just manoeuvred him over to the wicca circle – which by the way, isn’t haunted at all. But he was a heavy grown man, and so you had to half-drag him over, which is how one of the stones got dislodged. When you were done, you walked off. Well, I’m afraid we can’t let you walk off this time.”

She focused on Sam’s dark eyes. Then she felt the air move behind her and knew Dean had shifted. She whipped the knife into a shallow cut across his stomach. He swung out with his arm, trying to catch Hannah’s head. She ducked and turned to him. The only thought running through her head was one word, over and over: run. Hannah tried to dart around Dean, to escape from the Cave. He saw her plan and blocked her. Sam’s hands found her wrists in the dark, and he pinned her arms back behind her, stopping her from running. The angle hurt, and the knife clattered to the ground.

Hannah was caged. She felt wild and reckless and desperate. She planted her knee between Sam’s legs, catching him squarely in the groin. He let her wrists drop. She knew she had the advantage here. The Cave had provided her with the one thing she needed: she could see well in the dark. Hannah managed to avoid Dean’s grasp as he stumbled blindly for her, trying to find the knife on the floor with his feet. She evaded his searching arms.

Hannah ran back out of the Bronze Gate, and kept running, all the way out of the Jaws of Death, back through the mouth of Hell.

She heard them. After one moment of confusion, Sam and Dean gathered their wits, and realised she had given them the slip. They were in pursuit. She ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of this novella? Please let me know in the comments below, and maybe possibly, like, consider leaving a kudos to let me know its appreciated. :)
> 
> Obviously I wrote this novella as a little bit of fun. But I thought a lot about how to structure it and show specific ideas and concepts. So below is a totally not compulsory list of things to think about. If you're up for it, feel free to leave any of your thoughts in the comments (if not, that’s fine too).
> 
> 1) Did you realise the narrator was unreliable? If so, at what point?  
> 2) What different methods of detection do Sam, Dean and Hannah use to solve the mysteries in the Agatha Cave?


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